Her quivering bottom lip and puppy dog eyes were no match for the steely resistance you had built up over the years after adopting her. She’d tried this trick one too many times and finally you had conquered its power over you.

“No Luna, the last Oreo is mine” you repeated, holding the biscuit high above your head, out of your little companion’s reach. Slowly, she slid down the sofa, bowing her head, unable to change your mind. She was pouting, avoiding eye contact. It weakened you a little; you couldn’t bear to see her sad.

With a sigh, you recall your very first thoughts about this being an unwinnable dispute. You’d known from the very beginning of this whole ordeal that it was inevitable you’d have to give up eventually. There was little point in keeping up the charade for any longer, lest she turn on the water works and begin weeping.

Lowering your arm from its elevated position, you bring the last Oreo down to face level. When you turned your attention to her, she was sulking lightly at your feet, making squeaks that pulled on your heartstrings. You smirk a little, knowing what you were about to do would pull her out of such a rut.

Snap!

She flinched; her ears standing to attention upon hearing you break the biscuit into two halves. You smirked, bringing your hand to her chin, facing her towards your own look of sympathy. She whimpered at the unnatural contact, resisting ever so slightly at first, but going slack, resting her head in your grip. In your other hand, you offer the larger half of the Oreo to her.

She blinks at you as if she didn’t understand what you were doing and whether or not she should take the biscuit from you. A small crack of a smile appeared on her face, letting you know you did well. You really couldn’t bear to see her unhappy. She gently brought her muzzle to the biscuit and takes it into her mouth using her tongue, licking your hand to prevent any crumbs going to waste.

As she took it out of your hand, you leant back on the couch to relax. You watch Luna nibble on the biscuit, filled with glee and biscuity goodness. She really loved her Oreos. You think to save your half for later and set it down on your leg. You picked up the remote that sat by your leg and point it at the TV. With a click of a button, the TV flickers to life.

Buzzing with static, you channel-surf until you reached something interesting. There was nothing. Two hundred and fourteen channels and nothing good, so you put the news on. “And now, over to Jim Gale for the weather,” laughed the News Anchor, seemingly coming off the end of a funny news story. Pondering what it could have been, you felt a tug on your trouser leg. Looking, you saw the pet-sized mare dangling off the cushions next to you, attempting to get a grip on something to pull herself up and onto the sofa. She was stranded, looking helpless as her legs swung beneath her, but that made it all that much cuter.

You leant to the side nearest to her and hold out your hand for her to grab. She noticed and made a grab for it. She missed, and her lack of two hooves holding her on the edge of the sofa made her slip further down. Before she fell off completely, you take hold of her small hoof in one hand. She jumped in surprise at the warmth surrounding her wrist, and lost her grip with the other hoof. As soon as she had realised who was holding her, she quickly relaxed.

You pull her up and onto the sofa, and into your lap, her body limp as she relied on you to move her. She went wherever you pulled her, not reacting as she rid over your leg. Resting her head in your lap, you release her from your grasp. She was drooped over your thigh, pulling her hooves under her and readjusting herself to make your already fairly cushiony leg more comfortable.

You bring your hand to her mane and begin to stroke her, weaving your fingers through her plush light blue mane. Feeling her mane being moved, she pushes up, making you scratch her head, getting the most out of each smooth touch from your hand. After a few precious seconds of savouring the stroking, she manipulates your hand to get a good scratch behind the ear. She melts into your hand, moving her own head to get your fingers deep behind her ears to derive as much pleasure as possible.

You soon get into a routine, letting Luna direct your hand to the areas needing attention. You set into automatic and turn your attention to the weather report, sighing in content at the close moment with your companion.

“This coming afternoon will most likely be only break from the rain we get for the next few days, so make the most it,” states the meteorologist, pointing to a few statistics on the projection behind him. It looked like a rotten week was coming up. You thought about what you might have needed to do.

Oreos! You were out. It looked like a trip to the local supermarket was in order. You look to Luna, still nibbling on half an Oreo. You lick your lips, wanting to have your own half. Your stomach rumbled just to confirm that very thought and you went to pick up the Oreo half you’d left perched upon your leg, yet you grabbed nought but your trouser leg. You took a brief glance to your leg to where the biscuit should have been had it have not disappeared.

In its place, however, lay Luna’s head, looking up at you, lying on her back. She stared into your eyes, smirking as Oreo crumbs surrounded her mouth. She looked so innocent except for the devilish smirk and teasing eyes. It really was inevitable. At least you’d be getting some pudding tonight, unlike somepony…